


How Not to Conduct a Manhunt

by kriadydragon



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriadydragon/pseuds/kriadydragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a criminal is quite good at hide and seek, Arthur is at his wits end, and as much as he would like to think Merlin is drunk, he's starting to suspect that he most decidedly isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Not to Conduct a Manhunt

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by images of Merlin looking adorably disheveled in his night shirt.

A castle on lockdown, a practical _army_ of guards and knights scouring the halls, and they still couldn’t find one pathetic escaped prisoner? Arthur made a mental note to implement some sort of training regime that would sharpen the tracking skills of his men, because this was ridiculous. One man, who had never set foot in Camelot until two days ago when he was brought it for smuggling, should not be this impossible to find. 

But because the man was impossible to find, there would be no rest for anyone. Arthur had Gwaine and five of the guards fetch those servants that resided in the castle and arm them. The prisoner might have been a smuggler but he was rubbish in a fight - even Merlin could have taken him down, and merely by tripping over his own feet – so there was no reason not to have every available set of eyes and ears on the job. 

Speaking of incompetent servants who tripped over their own feet, Arthur made is way to Gaius’ chamber and the ridiculously small room Merlin called home. He found Merlin a curled and unconscious lump beneath his threadbare blanket, face peaceful, breaths deep and – for some reason – cheeks flushed. Arthur yanked the servant from his bed by the back of his shirt.

“On your feet, Merlin, this is no time to sleep,” Arthur said.

The boy flailed wildly at being hauled unceremoniously from the warm covers to the cold floor. He wobbled precariously, fighting for balance, his red-rimmed eyes blinking rapidly then going wide, reminding Arthur of a young owl having attempted its first flight and wondering how on earth it had ended up on the ground instead.

“Arthur?” Merlin said, swaying and blinking.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Then, still gripping the collar of Merlin’s shirt, herded him quickly out the door.

“Yes, Merlin. It’s me. Your observational skills are as keen as ever, I see,” Arthur said flatly. 

“Um… thank you?” Merlin said, and still with that dazed owl look. Arthur rolled his eyes and gave Merlin a firm but careful shake as they made their way down the stairs. 

“Will you wake up, already, _Mer_ lin. How is it you’re still half asleep? The alarm bells have been ringing for the past ten minutes, the whole bloody castle should be awake by now and yet I find you lazing about like a useless boulder.”

“There’s a boulder?” Merlin said, still dazed, still wobbling. 

_Gods, grant me patience,_ Arthur silently prayed. “No, Merlin. There’s an intruder. An escaped prisoner, and I need anyone and everyone to help track him down. So will you wake up already and make yourself at least a little useful?”

“I am useful,” Merlin said with a scowl, which was quickly replaced by that dazed look again. “How do I need to be useful, again?”

Arthur had to wonder why he’d even bothered fetching Merlin. The man was three times as rubbish in doing anything when half asleep, and would more than likely be a hindrance than a help. But even Arthur had to admit that the boy had a keen pair of eyes when the moment suited him, and neither could he deny that Merlin’s “funny feelings” could be rather spot on (unnervingly so, sometimes). Except neither keen eyes nor an uncanny knack for divining the future would be up to snuff until the boy _bloody well woke up_. 

But Merlin at least had found his feet, and Arthur was finally able to let him go. The moment he did, however, Merlin stumbled to a stop and blinked like the concussed owl Arthur had compared him to only moments ago. Arthur slapped him hard on the back while at the same time thrust the hilt of a dagger into his hands. The blade was in desperate need of sharpening, so there shouldn’t be any worries over Merlin accidentally impaling himself.

Merlin looked down at the knife as though it had magically appeared out of thin out.

“Arthur, why am I armed?” Merlin asked, expression troubled.

Arthur gritted his teeth, then gave Merlin a light shove to get him moving. 

“Are you deaf as well as brainless? I just told you! A prisoner has escaped and we need everyone able man to find him. You’re with me, and for the love of the gods, will you wake up and pay attention! The last thing I need is for the braggart to stab me in the back while you stare on like an idiot.”

“Oh,” Merlin said with a slow, fluttery blink. The scowl then made a come-back. “I’m not an idiot, you’re the idiot.”

“Gods, Merlin, and here I thought your wit couldn’t get any worse.”

They moved down the hall carefully, Arthur checking every shadowy nook and behind every curtain by pulling the cloth aside with the tip of his sword. Merlin followed but continued to regard his dull little knife like something both troubling and fascinating. 

“Um,” Merlin said suddenly, and just loud enough to give them away had anyone been in the hall. Arthur cringed and whirled around.  
“Merlin, will you keep it down!” Arthur hissed.

“Um…” Merlin said again, but quietly, this time, thank goodness. “What does it… he… the thing we’re looking for look like?”

 _Gods, I mean it, I could really use that patience before I strangle him,_ Arthur prayed. He tossed up his hands. “Merlin, you were right blasted there when we caught him. You know what he looks like!”

“Oh,” Merlin said. “I… er… might need you to refresh my memory.”

“I’ll knock your memory out of your head in a minute,” Arthur growled. “Lords, Merlin, why today of all days do you have to be at your most useless? Just… keep an eye out and tell me if you see any movement or anything out of place.”

“Right,” Merlin said with a resolute nod. “I can do that.” He wobbled.

Arthur stared at him, studying him carefully, and frowned. “Merlin… please tell me you’re not drunk?”

“Drunk?” Merlin said dumbly as though Arthur had asked him to calculate the current placement of the stars. “Uh… nope. Not drunk.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur pressed. “Because right now it’s rather hard to believe that you’re anything but drunk.”

Merlin pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Nope, definitely not.”

“You’re positive,” Arthur said.

“I’d be laughing more if I was drunk… I think. At least Gwaine says I laugh a lot. Oh, and try to sing, too. Which some men got annoyed with once and it started a fight and Gwaine and I ended up banned from the tavern for a month.” 

“Was that the time you showed up for work with a black eye, a hangover and the promise of never drinking with Gwaine again?” Arthur asked.

“Uh… yep,” Merlin said, beaming like it was something to be proud of.

“Is that the last time you were in the tavern?” Arthur asked.

“Yep,” Merlin said again with that same blear-eyed cheeriness.

Arthur frowned. That had been a little over two months ago. Of course, get drunk enough and large chunks of time did have a tendency to go missing. It was possible that Merlin was so drunk he didn’t even remember going to the tavern. 

Except Arthur recalled quite clearly the rather unpleasant aftermath of the very night Merlin was speaking of, which not even Gwaine fully remembered except for bits, pieces, exaggerations and with the inclusion of pink unicorns. Nor was Arthur a stranger to Merlin drunk – the boy really couldn’t hold his liquor to save his life - and what Arthur was seeing now, although by definition it could be called drunk behavior, it wasn’t _Merlin _drunk behavior. And, come to think of it, when had Merlin the time to even drop by the tavern for a quick one, today? He’d been with Arthur for the better part of the day, and when not with Arthur he was doing chores in between. The last Arthur had seen of Merlin – just as Arthur was getting into bed – Merlin had been wearily snuffing out the candles, then had left dragging heavy feet and with an equally weary “good night, sire.” The exhaustion had practically oozed from him. There was no way he would have made a detour to the tavern.__

__“Merlin,” Arthur asked carefully. “Are you all right?”_ _

__Merlin rubbed at one eye with the heel of his hand, reminding Arthur so much of a sleepy child. “Mm… got a bit of a headache. But I’m not drunk, I’m sure.”_ _

__Merlin wasn’t drunk, but he was most definitely something. And maybe it was the trick of the torch light, but Arthur thought he looked pale – more so than usual, that is. Pale with dark circles under his eyes, and maybe a sheen of sweat on his forehead. But that could have just been the torches…_ _

__“Um… weren’t we looking for someone?” Merlin asked blearily._ _

__Arthur snapped from his careful scrutiny of his manservant and rearranged his features into something sterner. Now wasn’t the time to puzzle over his manservant’s erratic behavior. They had a criminal to catch._ _

__“Yes, right. Let’s keep moving.”_ _

__“Well, I was just going to say we could ask that shadowy man about him,” Merlin said, pointing behind Arthur._ _

__Arthur whirled around, his sword at the ready. There was no one there. But Arthur knew these halls and knew there was a door not far from them. He dashed up the hall, yanked the door open and peered inside. There wasn’t much to see since it was little more than a broom cupboard._ _

__“Damn it, Merlin,” Arthur snarled. He slammed the door shut and turned._ _

__Merlin wasn’t there. With another snarl, Arthur trotted quickly down the hall, and spotted Merlin out of the corner of his eye standing in the middle of the adjacent corridor looking small, lost and disheveled. He stared at the walls with that same troubled but fascinated expression he had given the knife, and his eyelids looked like they wanted nothing more than to drop shut and not open until morning._ _

__“Hey, did you know these walls have sparkly things all over them?” Merlin said wistfully to no one in particular. “It’s pretty.”_ _

__Arthur hurried over to him, and when he placed his hand on Merlin’s shoulder to turn him forcibly around, Merlin flinched and shuddered._ _

__“Merlin, what in the world is wrong with you?” Arthur demanded. He placed his hand against Merlin’s forehead. Arthur’s eyes rounded over._ _

__“Merlin, you’re boiling.”_ _

__“Shouldn’t be,” Merlin slurred. “Not in a pot of water.” He looked at Arthur, his eyes going as wide as his heavy eyelids were capable. “Oh… oh! Are you asking me to boil water? Are you in the mood for a bath, sire?”_ _

__Arthur grumbled under his breath, grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and turned him around. “That’s it, you’re going back to Gaius.”_ _

__“We’re going to Gaius? Why, are you sick?” Merlin asked. He suddenly shivered, and folded his arms tightly. “I’m not surprised. Do you realize how drafty this castle is? Someone really needs to do something about it before people get sick.”_ _

__“Yep, I’ll get right on that,” Arthur said, keeping his grip on Merlin’s shoulder as he hurried him along. It was the middle of summer, and windless._ _

__“All the drafts might have something to do with the little purple men. Do you employ them to fix things, because they’re doing a rubbish job of it,” Merlin rambled. He stumbled, again, this time into Arthur, and seemed to have no intention of straightening up and walking mostly on his own._ _

__Neither did Arthur let him. He wrapped his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, because Arthur really didn’t like the way Merlin’s knees kept trying to give out._ _

__“I’ll be sure to fire them,” Arthur said._ _

__“You do that,” Merlin slurred. “I hate drafts.” He shivered, hard. “I hate being cold.”_ _

__Then he began coughing, light at first before it evolved into something fitful and heavy that nearly doubled him over. It shook his body, and when finished, left him gasping, weak, and even more dependent on Arthur’s support._ _

__“Easy, Merlin, we’re almost there,” Arthur soothed. He wasn’t scared, of course not, even if the coughing had been painful just to hear. But they were close, just as Arthur had promised._ _

__A dark shape dashed across the hall in a panicked run, right across Arthur’s and Merlin’s path causing Arthur to flinch back and Merlin to yelp in alarm._ _

__“Damn it all! Merlin, wait here,” Arthur said. He lowered Merlin to the ground against the wall. Then he gave chase._ _

__But the blighter was fast, giving Arthur one hell of a run through the corridors. The man turned just as Arthur and two guards coming in from the other way were about to pin him, then vanished down yet another hall._ _

__Then he vanished, in all literal sense of the word, in a small explosion of cloudy light._ _

__“Well that explains a lot, he’s a sorcerer!” Arthur growled. “Men, with me!”_ _

__They ran back the way they had come, passing other guards and knights who had come running at the sound of the criminal’s cacophonous get-away._ _

__“He’s a sorcerer, be on your guard!” Arthur called in passing._ _

__But at the extreme moment, the criminal wasn’t Arthur’s priority. He’d left Merlin in the hall, half-out of it and vulnerable, and there was a sorcerer running around desperate to escape. Although it did beg the question as to why the fool sorcerer hadn’t popped himself clean out of Camelot in a burst of light in the first place. But it was a question that could wait. Merlin first, criminal and his stupid parlor tricks later.  
Arthur reached the corridor where he had left Merlin. He skidded around the bend, then to a stop, and his heart shot into his throat._ _

__Merlin was on the floor, curled into himself with his hands over his head. Standing over him, kicking Merlin without mercy in the ribs and back, was the criminal._ _

__“You give it back you little brat or I’ll gut you like a pig!” the man snarled._ _

__Red veiled Arthur’s vision and filled his head like magma. He marched up to the man who was too occupied with kicking Merlin to see what was coming, grabbed the man by the shoulders, spun him around, and punched him in the face. The man went limp as a fish, but Arthur wasn’t done. He pounded the man’s face like it was the punching sack out on the training grounds, over and over, ignoring the hands pulling him away._ _

__Finally he let the man drop to the floor, unconscious, but kicked him for good measure all the same, to show him how it felt…_ _

__Merlin._ _

__Arthur shrugged off the hands trying to pull him away. He moved quickly to Merlin and crouched next to him, leaving the man for the guards and knights to deal with. Merlin remained curled on the floor, shaking with wet, heavy coughs. When Arthur touched his shoulder to get his attention, Merlin cringed._ _

__“It’s all right, Merlin, it’s just me.”_ _

__Merlin looked up at him, still like a dazed owl not quite sure as to what had gone wrong on his first flight._ _

__“Ar-thur?” Merlin choked._ _

__Arthur smiled tremulously. “Glad to see your keen observation skills are still working.”_ _

__Merlin’s coughs subsided, but it left him panting for air, which caused him to wince with each inhale._ _

__“Ow,” he said._ _

__Arthur clenched his fist. He looked back to glare at the man who had done this, but the guards had taken him away. Arthur turned his attention back to Merlin.  
Merlin was holding something up in a shaking hand – a small slip of paper._ _

__“G-got this f-from him,” he said._ _

__Arthur took the slip of paper. A strange, foreign language had been scribbled on its stained surface. But having been groomed for the war against magic, Arthur knew the lettering of a spell when he saw it. Uther had made sure that Arthur was at least familiar with the lettering to recognize it during searches and seizures of magical contraband._ _

__Arthur chuffed. “Well, that explains why he couldn’t magic himself out of the castle.” Thieves and smugglers were said to sometimes use a few spells to help them in their trade. They were also said to not very good at it nine times out of ten._ _

__Arthur looked at Merlin in confusion, as well as suspicion. “How, exactly, did you get this?”_ _

__Merlin’s fever-glazed eyes regarded Arthur like he was an idiot. “When I t-tackled him.”_ _

__“You tackled him,” Arthur said dryly._ _

__“When he popped into the hall. Like a fairy. Thought he w-was a fairy, actually. Fairies aren’t always nice, you know. Didn’t want him going all small and flying down people’s throats and possessing them to make them do stupid things like lick gold and kidnap princes and...” Merlin coughed wretchedly and winced, fisting his hand against his ribs. “I think the fairy may have possessed me, actually. Hurts to breathe.”_ _

__Arthur pulled Merlin’s hand away and lifted his night shirt. A bruise was forming, and a nasty one at that. Arthur shook his head, unsure whether to be amazed, annoyed or angry at his manservant’s actions._ _

__“Merlin, you are…” idiotic, foolish, ridiculously loyal, utterly brave, but mostly idiotic. Arthur shook his head. “You are going back to Gaius’ chamber.”_ _

__He gathered Merlin into his arms with the usual customary comments on swooning maidens that these situations often warranted. Merlin frowned in confusion and muttered something about how the maids shouldn’t have to work at such late hours, especially not if they’d been swooning. The words devolved into another coughing fit, and Merlin curled against Arthur’s chest, shivering so that his teeth chattered. Arthur tightened his hold on Merlin – so the idiot wouldn’t end up shaking himself back onto the floor, that was the only reason._ _

__Gaius was awake, and by his disgruntled look had been since Arthur had first burst through the door to fetch Merlin. Then his eyes moved to his shivering, huddling, coughing ward and his expression immediately softened._ _

__Arthur placed Merlin on the patient cot while explaining what had happened, and Gaius fetched the needed tools and remedies. He had Arthur help him removed Merlin’s flimsy nightshirt, then had him stand back out of the way so that Gaius could assess his patient. He pressed on Merlin’s ribs – one of them likely cracked, he announced – then placed his ear to Merlin’s skinny chest._ _

__“I feared as much,” he said. “Merlin was feeling rather poorly when he returned home.”_ _

__Merlin coughed. “Feeling rather poorly now,” he managed between coughs. Gaius patted his shoulder affectionately. He followed this show of affection by pouring one bitter potion after another down Merlin’s throat until he was gagging. Arthur was called back in to hold Merlin up while Gaius bound his ribs, then they replaced his shirt and Arthur carried him up to his room and back to bed, with further remarks on swooning maidens._ _

__“Arthur, really, stop making the poor maids work at night,” Merlin said, already half-asleep thanks to Gaius’ potions._ _

__“Only if you stop tackling magic-using criminals while in your night-shirt and sick as a dog.”_ _

__“Mm,” Merlin said sleepily, burying his cheek into his pillow when Arthur set him down. “Deal.”_ _

__Arthur laughed, covering his servant with the blanket, then another blanket that Gaius brought up. He left Merlin as he had found him – a little worse for wear, but cheerfully, blissfully asleep._ _

____

The End


End file.
